


As School Boys From Their Books

by colazitron



Category: One Direction
Genre: 2010 Fic, M/M, harry is 15, louis is 18
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-02-06
Updated: 2012-02-06
Packaged: 2017-11-27 04:31:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,333
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/658036
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/colazitron/pseuds/colazitron
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's January and Louis's on his last school trip to Manchester. He meets Harry.</p>
            </blockquote>





	As School Boys From Their Books

**As School Boys From Their Books**

 

It’s January and Louis has been eighteen for less than a month, and he’s not sure if he loves it. Eighteen. It’s his last year of school and while that’s absolutely amazing, it sort of brings all those terrible grown-up thoughts too. He’s eighteen now. If he were to get into actual, real trouble, he’d be fully responsible for himself. This is a problem because Louis loves trouble and he knows responsibility and the two don’t really go together that well. On the other hand, he’s eighteen and there’s a certain sense of freedom that comes with it. And anyway, he’s gotta get through A-levels first before he gets to face any real world things.

They’re in Manchester on a school trip – the last he’ll ever be on – and just finished the last item on their itinerary for the day; some boring talk about the Manchester Blitz. Louis’s not really sure why he’s in a class that goes on trips that include this kind of talk, but he’s sure he had some sort of reason for it when he signed up and he’s gonna remember sooner or later, so it’s all good. For now though, they’re free to do whatever they want and as Stan slings an arm around him and grins at him, he’s pretty sure they’re on the same page and that “whatever they want” is “head back to that school that looked like an all-girls one”.

“You sure you’re up for the girls today?” Stan teases and Louis cuffs him round the head. Ever since he’s admitted to his best friend that he’s quite possibly not going to limit himself to girls (even though he can’t imagine switching sides permanently), Stan has made it his mission to get Louis a boy. Even though he cringes and squirms away half-jokingly whenever he notices Louis actually looking at a boy or even insinuating that he’d like to do… certain things to a particularly fine specimen. He shrugs though, because, yeah, he’s not home, and this whole giving boys a go thing is a lot easier in a town where he won’t ever have to see anyone ever again. It’s not that he’s ashamed, it’s just he’s not quite ready for everyone to be talking about it like it’s any of their business yet either. So in Doncaster he has to sneak around a bit and sometimes he just really wants to flaunt it. He wants to snog a boy in the middle of the street just for the outraged looks it would probably get them.

But what’s good about being away from home – no one knows him – is also what’s bad about it. The only boys he’s ever picked up, or let pick him up, he’s met at a mate’s mate’s cousin’s party or something like that. At any rate, someone had known someone who’d thrown a party. There was alcohol and lowered inhibitions and things could be laughed off as jokes if they went badly. Here there’s a school trip and broad daylight and absolutely no way for Louis to hide if he feels like it. It’s a bit terrifying but also, he has to admit, a bit exhilarating.

Anyway. Being a good best friend, Louis goes with Stan and when he picks a favourite out of a group of girls, he turns up the smile and the chatter, regaling them with slightly embellished stories. No doubt they can tell he’s exaggerating a bit, but he winks at them and smiles from behind his fringe and they giggle. Stan talks the pretty blonde he’s picked into taking them along to Starbucks where they’re meeting up with her cousin and a couple of her friends from a town a bit outside Manchester.

“It’s a sucky little village, but at least she doesn’t have to go to an all-girls school,” the girl, Louis thinks her name is Bonnie, explains. He offers his arms to the other girls who seem to see that their friend is a bit taken with his and take it with good humour.

“Shall we follow them at a discreet distance and let them flirt then, ladies?” he suggests, because apparently he’s not interested in girls today. One of them laughs and the other one even slings her arm through his, a smile full of humour on her round face.

“I say we shall, good sir,” she plays along and this time it’s his turn to laugh. If nothing else, this promises to be a nice distraction from the Manchester Blitz that’s still lurking in the back of his mind. They follow the pair through a snowy park to the nearby Starbucks and Louis is glad it’s only a short walk, because he’s quite willing to believe that this is the coldest January in seventeen years. It’s fucking freezing and the tip of his nose feels like it’s going to fall off soon. He knows it won’t, but that doesn’t really do anything to lessen the biting pain just underneath his skin. The second girl wraps her arm around his as well about halfway through their walk, and he’s pretty sure it’s for warmth and not anything else. It’s a good idea actually and so he raises his arms to put them around their smaller shoulders, bringing them in closer. It’s a little awkward in the stocky winter clothes, but they make it works, the girls’ arms crossing over his back and his own falling down to grip their upper arms and hold them close. They set up a rhythm in their walk and when they reach the café, none of their teeth are chattering. Louis counts it as a success.

Until Bonnie’s cousin and her friends show up, they all chatter amiably and build somewhat of a rapport that is only briefly interrupted by the arrival of the three girls and the boy they have in tow. They take up quite a bit of space with their rambunctious little group, but the original five are on their second drinks and some pieces of cake, so they’re probably good enough for business to let them be for now. One of the new girls, not Bonnie’s cousin, Louis thinks, is obviously one of Bonnie’s friend’s girlfriend, if the enthusiastic kiss and ensuing snuggles and giggles are anything to go by. The other girl, the one that had grabbed his arm first (he really should learn their names, shouldn’t he?) flashes him a side-long grin as if checking for his reaction. Louis merely smiles because it’s not like it bothers him and it’s not like he’s looking to hook up with one of them either.

Louis gets up to let the giggling girls slide into the booth to their friends before sitting back down. He prefers a seat with a quick escape route anyway. It’s only then that he notices they don’t all fit into the booth and have already pulled up all the chairs in the vicinity and the third girl is twirling on her axis, scanning the room for another chair to get. He catches a flash of pink lips and green eyes beneath the beanie and scarf she’s bundled up in and makes an executive decision to pull her down onto his lap. He grabs for her wrist and gives it a little tug and she stumbles, surprised, but he puts out his arm and guides her onto his thighs. She blinks down at him, surprised and up close Louis suddenly realises his mistake and mentally thanks whoever’s listening that no one could have heard his thoughts. It’s a boy.

A very pretty boy, Louis thinks when a smile slowly breaks out over his face and he starts peeling off his layers, casually perched on Louis’ lap. He’s in a school uniform like the others and it looks unfairly good on him. When he pulls off the black beanie on his head, a mess of short, brown, curly hair spills out and Louis swallows a little and avoids looking in Stan’s direction, just in case he’s sending him an insufferably knowing look.

“You’re more comfortable than you look,” the boy says when he settles after squashing his coat and things onto the last remaining bit of bench beside them. His voice is lower than his face looks old and there’s a husky kind of roughness to it that settles warmly in the pit of Louis’ stomach. Christ.

“Are you saying I’m fat?” Louis asks, quirking an eyebrow and smirking because there’s no way the kid even can call him fat.

“No, I’m saying you’re comfortable,” he grins back before getting up and announcing that he’ll get drinks.

“You’re gonna want to watch that one. He’s a right little cocktease,” the other boy says as soon as the curly head is far enough out of earshot. Louis turns to look at him with surprise evident on his face. Something about the boy’s smile strikes him as unpleasant. It matches the way the two girls exchange a look before staring anywhere but at either of them.

“Huh,” is all Louis says on the matter until the boy comes back and plops down onto Louis’ lap like a duck takes to water. He waits for the curly-headed boy to swallow his sip of something that looks like a lot of cream and syrup before he pokes him in the side.

“I’m Louis,” he introduces himself.

“Harry,” the boy answers back in that slow drawl that climbs up Louis’ spine and makes his hair stand on end.

“So, Harry, your mate tells me you’re a bit of a cocktease. Should I believe that?”

The others splutter a bit and stare at him incredulously, except for Stan who slowly wipes his palm over his face, trying to hide the grin pulling at his lips so his eventual reproachful look will be more effective. He should really know that they’ve never affected Louis and never will. Harry only raises an eyebrow at Louis curiously and then turns to shoot his mate a look that further confirms Louis’ suspicion that at least right now, they’re not all too keen on each other’s company.

“I’m not a cocktease,” Harry clarifies with an intriguing air of finality. He fixes the other boy with a stare that makes him shrink back a little and Louis feels strangely vindictive. He’s not a fan of slagging people off behind their backs. Then Harry shrugs nonchalantly and swipes a bit of cream onto his finger, sucking it off before looking at Louis over his shoulder with a disturbing sense of innocence about his face.

“I usually follow through,” he shrugs and for a few heartbeats Louis is completely floored. Then he breaks out into a laugh and pats Harry on the back. He definitely likes this kid. Harry answers his laughter with a dirty grin, before turning back around and concentrating on his hot chocolate.

In the next two hours of casual chatter, Louis learns that Harry is 15 (“Almost 16. My birthday’s in less than two weeks.”), has an older sister (“She’s at uni. Are you at uni or college?”) and sings in a band (“We’re gonna do Battle of the Bands this year.”). He also learns that he loves cats, chocolate and cooking and he can’t stand horror movies, roller coasters and beetroot. He notices that he fiddles with his hair a lot and keeps touching things all the time, but otherwise barely fidgets or moves. Louis’s not sure if that’s because he’s sitting in his lap or if that’s just how he is.

When the group starts to break up and people start leaving, Louis has to fight the irrational urge to keep Harry right there in his lap and not let him go. He’s studied the line of his jaw like it’ll tell him whether or not he should make a move on him, but he’s not come to a conclusion by the time there are only four of them left and Harry doesn’t have to sit on his lap anymore. The other two are Stan and Bonnie and Louis thinks that with how they’ve been flirting, Stan’s going to want to take her back to their shared room at the hotel. He’s had a fairly recent break-up, so common decency clearly dictates that unless they’re all up for a foursome, Louis’s going to have to let him have the room. But then Bonnie leans in to whisper something to Stan and he nods and they get up to get dressed.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” Stan addresses Louis with a significant look.

“Her parents are out of town,” Harry explains when they’ve left.

“I’d figured,” Louis replies and then looks around at a loss of what to do.

“Well, I don’t want to go back home yet and there’s no one else left, so entertain me,” Harry demands with a grin. Louis can’t help chuckling.

“And how do you expect me to do that, your royal Highness?”

“That’s for you to decide, obviously.” Harry lounges in the booth and looks at him expectantly, what Louis imagines to be a challenging twinkle in his eyes. Since impulse decisions have worked well for him today so far and Harry doesn’t strike him as the type to, well, strike him, Louis grabs Harry’s school tie and yanks him in until there’s only an inch or two separating their faces.

“In that case, I want to take you back to my hotel room and spread you out on my bed and make you beg me to fuck you.”

Harry licks his lips and swallows, but his pupils grow big.

“I thought you’d never ask,” he says and Louis suddenly feels like he can hear the tension crackling between them, so he pushes forward and snatches a kiss from Harry’s lips. Harry is soft and pliant but cheeky. He doesn’t just surrender, he makes Louis chase him and pin him down. Louis loves it. When he pulls back to catch his breath, Harry’s lips are full and pinked up and he decides they need to get out of here right now. He grabs for Harry’s hand and pulls him up.

“Come on, let’s go,” he says and Harry grins, but eagerly wraps himself in his clothes as Louis does the same, slinging his bag over a shoulder. They’re in luck and catch the bus back to the hotel right away. It’s crowded, what with all the students getting out of school, and they stand close and squashed up against each other in the throng of people. Louis holds on to the handle running along the roof and leans forward to kiss Harry at every stop. He did it the first time on a whim, but Harry let out such a delighted giggle that he has to do it again. It’s too sweet for a random hook-up and Louis feels his heart swell for this boy and his head protest, so when they’re inside the hotel room, he doesn’t let Harry take off any of his clothes before he presses him against the door and licks inside his mouth.

Harry’s lips are cold and dry and chapped, even more so than Louis’. Louis ignores it in favour of the warmth inside Harry’s mouth, but when he flinches and makes to move back but can’t go very far because of the door, he leaves off and presses short kisses against Harry’s lips instead, trying to warm them up so they won’t split open as easily. The tip of Harry’s nose is a cold shock every time it brushes Louis’ skin and he wonders if Harry can even feel how cold his is over the cold skin stretched over his cheeks.

“You’re like an icicle,” he mock complains and Harry just grins at him, biting his glove to pull it off his fingers and using how distracted Louis is by the action to fit his hand against his cheek. Louis flinches back violently and bats his hand away.

“Okay, that’s it. Clearly, I have to warm you up,” he decides and from the way Harry looks at him, he doesn’t mind one bit. Louis pulls off his own jacket, scarf and beanie because he always heats up pretty quickly and then takes Harry’s cold face in his hands, rubbing his thumbs over his cheek bones before leaning in.

“Only how would I go about that best? What turns you on, Harry, tell me,” he breathes, right against his lips, so Harry can feel the warmth washing over him. “If I’m gonna warm you up, you need to tell me what gets you hot.”

Harry blinks at him, eyes wide and when he licks his lips, his tongue bumps into Louis’ accidentally. He makes a slow movement with his shoulders that Louis interprets as a shrug and he’s about to step away and ask him if he’s really sure about this, if he even knows what he’s getting himself into, but Harry furrows his brow and clings to the front of Louis’ jumper with both hands.

“Alright, I’ll just have to find out then,” Louis decides and presses close, reaching up to pull the beanie off his hair. He drops it onto the floor carelessly and rakes his hands through the messy curls until they get tangled. Scraping his nails over Harry’s scalp, he watches his eyes flutter and his teeth pull at his lips.

“Seems I’m off to a good start. Do I get a kiss for that?” he teases and Harry rolls his eyes, but leans forward and presses their lips together, pushing past Louis’ with his tongue, chasing the warmth emanating from Louis everywhere. Louis shifts his hips to angle them into where Harry’s probably are underneath his mountain of clothes and presses in closer, to keep him trapped against the door. Harry’s kisses are eager and enthusiastic and Louis can feel his blood start to boil in response. It’s strange, to be pressed so close to someone and yet not be able to feel the contours of their body and Louis presses harder, looking for something to relate to. He can feel himself start to harden in his pants and he wants to know if Harry’s in a similar state.

But then Harry whines in the back of his throat and Louis suddenly feels tickled to be a little mean and see how far he can push Harry. So he ignores it, instead rubs his own hips against Harry’s coat in unmistakeable rocking motions. Even if Harry can’t feel him hard through all these layers of fabric, he’s got to know what Louis’s doing by rutting against him like this.

“Louis,” Harry breathes and it’s possibly Louis’ favourite thing out of the younger boy’s mouth so far. “Please.”

“Please what, babe?”

“Please get me out of these clothes. I’m warm, I promise.”

Louis chuckles into Harry’s scarf and then pulls back to look him straight in his hooded eyes, his own crinkling up with the smile spread over his face.

“Hm, no. I don’t think so. I need to make sure you’re thoroughly warmed up before I can do that.”

“I am!” Harry insists, trying to push Louis away, to get to the buttons of his coat.

“Are you really? Are you hot for me?” Louis asks, licking lewdly over Harry’s lips and pressing his thigh into where he assumes Harry’s crotch to be. Harry hisses and pushes his hips against him so Louis figures he did something right.

“Yes,” Harry answers the largely rhetorical question, his voice lowered, but unwavering still. Louis can’t help but admire that this kid doesn’t let anything intimidate him.

“Come on,” he urges and Louis leans away a little to swiftly undo the buttons, shoving Harry’s coat open, warmth spilling out of it. Harry groans thankfully and this time when they press together, Louis’s pretty sure he can feel Harry hard against him. He tangles the fingers of one of each of their hands together as he leans in to kiss him again and sucks Harry’s tongue into his mouth. Harry moans in the back of his throat and pushes against Louis more insistently, impatiently and that just won’t do. Louis’s got plans for the kid, so as it seems, he’s gonna have to take the edge off first. He takes a step back and pulls his jumper over his head, impatiently swiping his fringe out of his eyes after – really, sometimes he thinks he should just get it cut – and takes his first proper look at Harry since the café. He’s absurdly cute in his scarf and coat. Bright cheeks clearly showing that he’s warmed up now, heavy winter boots under not really meticulous school trousers. But his lips are kiss bruised and his eyes hooded and Louis steps closer again, pecking him on the mouth quickly before falling to his knees.

“Fuck,” Harry whispers, obviously cottoning on to what Louis wants to do and widens his stance a bit. For a brief moment Louis wonders how habitual that movement is, how many people have and would willingly go to their knees for this boy but then Harry’s hand is in his hair, holding it away from his face and he has better things to do than wonder. He undoes Harry’s fly quickly, pulling the trousers down and shoving the white shirt up for Harry to hold. Harry is soft and mostly undefined, although the v of his hips already stands out a bit. Louis trails his tongue along the waistband of Harry’s grey briefs, letting one hand rest on his thigh, while the other holds on to his hip. Harry whimpers quietly and Louis grins but takes pity on him, nuzzling his nose into the prominent outline of Harry’s swollen cock. The cotton smells a bit of detergent and strongly of boy and it goes to Louis’ head in a rush. It’s been a while since he’s last done this and he almost forgot that, yeah, he really likes it. When he pushes his face into Harry’s crotch more insistently, a tiny damp spot starts forming in the material and Louis fits his mouth around it and sucks at Harry’s cock through the fabric, making it even more damp. He rubs his tongue against it and lets short grins pull at his lips at the noises Harry makes. Soon enough, his tongue starts to feel fuzzy though and he grabs hold of the elastic to fold it down enough to get out Harry’s cock and balls. Harry groans gratefully at the cool air hitting his heated flesh and goose bumps spring up over the skin of his thighs and stomach.

Louis looks up at Harry, still bundled up in his coat and scarf, probably more close to overheated than cold now. Harry’s head rests back against the door and Louis guesses that his eyes are closed. He wets his lips and trails his open mouth from the tip to the base of Harry’s cock, exhaling hotly against the flesh and drawing Harry’s attention back down to him. His heavy eyelids flutter open and he gazes down at Louis, his eyes a bit unfocussed. Louis fits his lips around one of the tightened sacks, bringing his hand up to pump along his cock as he does so. Harry’s hand still holds his hair back from his face and it tightens at the skin on skin contact, the muscles in his thighs clenching in an effort not to thrust his hips into Louis’ face. Pre-come beads at the head of Harry’s cock and Louis swipes it off with his thumb, before sucking it off the digit, still holding Harry’s gaze captive.

“Louis, please,” he lets Harry beg before putting him out of his misery and closing his lips around his cock, sinking down as far as he’s comfortable with, closing his hand around the rest. Harry groans deep in his chest and it makes Louis’ own arousal press more insistently against the inside of his pants. When Harry tugs at his hair, he lets out a little whine that travels right into Harry and makes him gasp in return.

“Oh, fuck, your tongue,” he praises and Louis lets the muscle flit back and forth over the tip, licking the taste of him right off him. He pumps his hand along the heated skin, twisting his wrist while he hollows his cheeks and bobs his head in counterpoint. Harry’s scrabbling for purchase with his free hand but unable to find it, the smooth wood of the door not much for his slippery fingers to hold on to. He starts throwing his head from side to side, biting his lip occasionally and his thighs shake a bit as Louis continues to bob his head, building up a steady, fast rhythm. Under usual circumstances he might tease the boy for how quickly he seems to become overwhelmed by the sensations but to be honest, Louis is a little glad, because he can feel his own arousal pulse through his body and he wants to bury himself inside him.

“God, Louis, I’m gonna—” Harry warns, his head thudding back against the door and his hand pulling at Louis’ hair, obviously trying to pull him off his cock. Louis groans in protest, sinking further down onto Harry’s dick, the vibrations tingling against both their skin. Harry whimpers when he realises that Louis is not going to let off and only moments later Louis feels him spill hotly inside his mouth while he tries to muffle a moan into his hand. Louis suckles him through it, swallowing the bitter mess in his mouth before he lifts himself up to stand in front of Harry again, his legs a bit numb but the tell tale pins and needles starting up. He hesitates for a moment and Harry uses it to pull him in by the neck and kiss shamelessly and open-mouthed, pushing inside Louis’ mouth just like he had before. Louis has finally had enough and pulls at the scarf around Harry’s neck until it falls to the floor too. He pushes his jacket and blazer off his shoulders in one go, before his fingers come up to undo the knot in his tie, pulling it out of his collar as soon as he can and starting right in on the buttons on his shirt. Harry’s hands in turn come down to Louis’ own trousers, undoing the button and pulling down the zipper, giving his hard-on more room.

“I want to fuck you,” Louis breathes against his lips. “Will you let me?”

Harry’s hands curl in the waistband of Louis’ jeans as he bites his lip.

“Yeah,” he says, nodding eagerly. “Fuck, yes.”

Louis grins and undoes the last button, pushing his palms over Harry’s torso before pecking him briefly on the lips.

“Okay, good. Undress and get on the bed,” he says before stepping away to get out of his own shoes and trousers. Harry wobbles a bit and goes over to the bed to sit down to undo his laces instead of risking to fall over. Louis hates this bit. He likes the rushed and eager atmosphere that builds up with this kind of hook-up and he hates the part where he has to be sensible and get the lube and a condom from the bathroom. Where he has to step away and wait for reality to settle in and take a bit of the atmosphere away. So he tries to be as quick as possible and doesn’t care that the tooth paste falls to the floor with a clatter.

When he returns to the bedroom, Harry has pushed the blankets off the double bed and is sitting in the middle of it, cross-legged and unsure. Naked, he looks even younger. There are still traces of puppy fat on his body. He’s got great shoulders and when he fills out he will be so fit, but now it’s all just hints lurking in the line of his jaw and the jut of his collar bones. Louis deliberately places the two small packets on the bed so Harry can see them and back out if he wants to. His gaze flits down to the foil squares and his cheeks flush, but his eyes are determined and a little hungry when they look at Louis.

“Aren’t you gonna join me?” he asks. It’s not an invitation Louis is about to turn down, so he lowers his knees down onto the mattress and crawls forward a bit so he can push inside Harry’s space. He bypasses his lips this time and fits his mouth right to one of his prominent collarbones. He lets his teeth graze the skin and hears Harry’s breath hitch. It’s low enough to easily hide in a shirt, so Louis doesn’t feel too bad about indulging himself and leaving Harry a little reminder of their afternoon activities, nibbling and sucking at the skin until a bruise blooms there. Harry remains immobile beneath him even though his breathing goes irregular and Louis can’t shake the sneaking suspicion that he’s never done this before; not with another boy at least. He’s not about to call Harry out on it, because if he doesn’t think it important enough to mention, he’s not going to push, but it definitely makes him gentle. So instead of pushing Harry flat against the sheets, he leans up to tug playfully at his ear.

“You can touch me if you want, you know?” he whispers. It seems to snap Harry out of his stupor, because he lifts a hand and runs it down Louis’ flank, settling on his hip as he lowers his head to nose at his neck. Louis pretends not to notice that the curve of Harry’s palm fits his hip bone perfectly. When Harry turns his head to kiss him again, he gets distracted and forgets, swept up by the softness of his lips and the searing touch of his tongue. He pushes closer and Harry leans backwards, but Louis prods his side to tell him to move before lying down. Harry gets the message and shuffles around, uncrossing his legs and moving up the bed slowly, his lips not parting from Louis’, before he falls back into the cushions, breaking the kiss. He grins up at Louis and grabs the back of his neck, yanking him in again, but Louis reacts faster, planting his hands next to Harry’s head and ducking down, letting his lips collide with Harry’s breastbone instead. Harry looks down at him, entranced, and Louis presses kisses down the line to his belly button. It’s only when he takes his eyes from Harry’s that he realises that Harry ... has four nipples. He lifts a surprised eyebrow and Harry flushes and lays an arm over his face to hide in. Louis snorts because he was just surprised nothing else. Instead of bothering to explain that, he drags his tongue over one of the extra nipples and briefly licks his fingers before fitting them to the other one. Harry makes a noise like he’s trying to swallow it but doesn’t succeed.

“Let it out, babe,” Louis mutters into his skin. “It’s hot.”

“You don’t...?” Harry questions but breaks off.

“Mind? Nah, why would I? More to play with.”

Louis grins into the heated skin beneath him and then moves up to one of Harry’s “proper” nipples, tracing that one with his tongue and bringing his second hand up to replace his mouth on the other one. He fits one leg between Harry’s and can feel him start to swell against his thigh, so he presses his own erection into Harry’s hip. He really wants to be inside him as soon as possible. If the way Harry pushes back against him is any indication, he’s probably not going to complain if Louis speeds the proceedings up a little. He kisses Harry again, before lifting off of him.

“Turn over and get on your knees,” he instructs lowly, because as much as he likes looking at his pretty face, this’ll be easier with Harry facing away from him. Harry sucks in a breath but does as he asks, sinking down onto his forearms and letting his head rest between his hands, his tiny arse up in the air. Louis reaches for the condom and rips the foil open, rolling it on so he won’t have to deal with it later before squeezing out the lube into one hand. He bites at the swell of one of Harry’s buttocks playfully and then rubs some of the lube over Harry’s hole. He sees a shiver pass down Harry’s spine, but he doesn’t move away and Louis presses a rewarding kiss to his skin before sitting back up and concentrating on the task at hand.

“Just try to relax,” he murmurs and pushes one finger in slowly but relentlessly, only stopping when he’s buried all the way inside. The line of Harry’s shoulders is a bit tense, but Louis can see him roll them and consciously try to relax, so he moves his finger back and forth in little rocking motions. Harry welcomes the intrusion faster than Louis would’ve thought and when he pushes in a second finger and Harry shows no signs of discomfort, he thinks he may have to retract his earlier thoughts. Harry definitely has some form of experience with this. It can only help his case, so he’s not going to question it. Instead he starts to scissor his fingers, trying to loosen Harry up. His own heart is beating quickly with arousal and nerves because maybe he doesn’t have endless experience about this either. He works a third finger inside and waits until he can move them comfortably before he pushes in at an angel, searching for the fleshy bump that would hopefully send stars shooting along Harry’s nerves. It takes a few tries, but then his fingers bump into something and Harry lets out a shocked gasp.

“Fuck!” he curses, muffled by the sheets, but heartfelt nonetheless and pushes back onto Louis’ fingers. “I’m good, please, now.”

Louis looks down at the body welcoming him and decides to trust his judgment, passing the remains of the lube over his cock and pulling out his fingers, lining up his cock instead. He doesn’t think telling Harry to relax again will help any, so instead he guides himself inside slowly, one hand on his cock to help and the other a hopefully settling weight on Harry’s hip. Harry whines, long and drawn out and when Louis’s buried to the hilt, one of his fists slams down onto the bed with a dull thud.

“You okay?” Louis asks, his own voice tight like the body holding him captive. Harry moves his head slowly from side to side but mumbles “yeah, yeah, please, move” so Louis does, slowly and carefully. Harry moans and moves his hips into the sensation, clearly not satisfied with Louis’ hesitant movement.

“Thought you were,” he breathes but cuts himself off with a whimper, “were gonna make me beg.”

Louis is startled by the bold comment because so far Harry has seemed a little overwhelmed with what was happening. Nevertheless he’s definitely not one to let a challenge go unanswered and so he moulds himself to Harry’s back and pushes his nose into the slightly sweaty curls at the nape of his neck.

“Are you sure?” he asks, but it’s more of a tease than actually looking for confirmation. Harry giggles breathlessly and burrows deeper into the sheets, like he thinks he can find some real purchase there.

“Do your worst,” he invites and the way his spine curves against Louis’ chest is too enticing to resist. Louis pushes back up and grabs hold of Harry’s hips, working his own in shallow thrusts until he can move easily enough to slide almost all the way out and then right back in again. Harry’s breath hitches and his spine bends down, pushing his arse incrementally higher. For how inexperienced he seemed moments ago, he sure revels in the feeling now. It’s a welcome change for Louis though and when he angles his hips to try and catch Harry’s prostate again, he doesn’t feel guilty about picking up his pace at the same time. The bold moan that Harry lets out into the sheets he seems to be biting is indication enough when Louis has hit the bundle of nerves. Reaching around with one hand, he finds Harry already hard again. He draws his hand back to lick at it and then circles his wet fingers around Harry’s cock. The extra stimulation tears a small shout from Harry, his limbs beginning to shake, his breathing reduced to pants and moans. He’s a special kind of shameless that seems to actually stem from the fact that he finds nothing wrong with enjoying himself so much and it spurs Louis on more than he would have thought. Suddenly he wants to see if he actually can make Harry beg, so he concentrates his hand’s attention on the head of Harry’s cock and reduces his thrusts to shallow ones deep inside him, barely providing any friction for himself either. The arousal sings in his veins and wants him to thrust faster into Harry, to chase that high, but he’s wrapped up in trying to tear all manners of noises from Harry.

“You really – want me to...?” Harry says between gasps and Louis sinks his teeth into the skin between his shoulder blades.

“Oh, yeah,” he confirms, lifting his hand off his cock and rubbing the pre-come he’s gathered on his fingers around the peak of one of Harry’s nipples.

“No use pretending it doesn’t turn you on,” he says, almost conversationally, if it weren’t for the thick layer of want in his own voice. “You wouldn’t have reminded me if you didn’t want me to do exactly this.”

Harry gives a short laugh but doesn’t deny the claim.

“Do you get off on this? Making people do exactly what you want by making them believe it’s all them? You’re a manipulative little thing, aren’t you?” He murmurs the words right into his skin, prodding Harry’s prostate with his cock, all the while really hoping that Harry won’t hold out too long, because he’s not sure how long he himself can hold out.

“You’re not even legal yet and you’re already a little slut,” Louis goes on, pressing a kiss into Harry’s skin to remove any possible sting of his words.

“You love it,” Harry protests and Louis allows himself to chuckle.

“’Course I do,” he agrees and then switches tactics, pulling back and fucking Harry in long deep strides that rock his whole body. He’s clawing at the sheets and Louis can’t see his face, but he’s willing to bet that he’s trying to keep in his reactions.

“Now come on, tell me what I want to hear,” he prods and it only takes a few more thrusts and his hand back on Harry’s cock for him to give in.

“Fuck, Louis. Fuck me. Please, make me come,” he groans, his words still muffled by the fabric and Louis’s not sure if it is because he’s maybe not as shameless after all.

“Greedy,” he assesses. “You already came.”

“Yes, I-” This time it’s the swipe of Louis’ thumb over the slit at the head of his cock that breaks him off. Louis can feel a burst of pre-come dribble down his thumb. Harry is obviously close again and Louis has a fleeting thought of wanting to be sixteen again.

“Louis, please,” he merely repeats and Louis takes pity on them both and starts fucking Harry in earnest, pulling him off in rough, quick jerks. A litany of “yes” and “ah” and “so good” tumbles from Harry’s mouth, interspersed with wordless moans and rushed breaths of Louis’ name. When Louis starts sucking a bruise into Harry’s back, it only takes a couple more twists of his wrists for him to come again and the way his body tightens down around Louis is enough incentive for him to be selfish and search out his own orgasm. Harry goes lax, but Louis can feel his muscles flutter, like he’s trying to hold tight around Louis. Looking down at Harry, Louis doesn’t really need the extra tightness, he’s wound up enough that he follows him over the edge only a few moments later. He stays suspended in the moment for what feels like countless seconds but is probably no more than four of his heartbeats and then pulls out carefully, easing Harry’s hips down onto the bed. He himself pulls the condom off and ties it up, debating to just drop it onto the floor but ultimately getting up from the bed to flush it down the toilet. When he comes back into the room, Harry is still spread face down.

“Ugh, get up, you’re making a wet patch,” he complains, swatting Harry’s thigh and contradicting his words by crawling into bed and flopping down beside Harry. The boy lifts his head and looks at Louis blearily, but ultimately pushes himself up.

“Fine. Can I take a shower?”

“Be my guest,” Louis invites with a grand gesture and Harry rolls his eyes at him. There is a tiny wet patch that Harry pressed into the sheets but Louis decides he’ll just spread a towel over it to sleep on and then room service will take care of it tomorrow when they leave. He hears the shower turn on and pulls one of the blankets back up from the floor, spreading it over his legs so his cooling body won’t go entirely cold. He sinks back into the cushions and the sated feeling in his limbs, a subconscious grin tugging at his lips.

In about two hours Louis will wind Harry’s scarf around his neck and stuff his school tie into his backpack before grabbing his room key and insisting he walk him to the bus station, because it’s the polite thing to do. Harry will laugh at him and tell him a random anecdote about his mates from school while they walk. Louis will try his best to ignore the growing impulse to ask for Harry’s number or email or last name at least, because he’s 15 and Louis’s 18 and they live about three hours apart and this won’t be anything other than one afternoon for at least as long as Harry’s in college and by the time he’s done, they’ll have forgotten about it. When Harry points out his bus rolling up, Louis will grab him around the waist and kiss his slightly blue lips until they’re red and puffy again. The old lady next to them will shoot them an affronted look and Louis will not be able to help his insufferable grin.

The shock of missing Harry after only knowing him for a few hours will be nothing compared to the shock of seeing him again at the x-factor boot camp a few months later. It’s almost enough for Louis to believe in fate but all the reasons he hadn’t asked for Harry’s details last time are still true this time and so he lets this opportunity pass as well. When they’re put into a band together, Louis has a ridiculous moment of wondering whether that would’ve happened if he’d asked for Harry’s phone number 10 minutes ago when they’d said their goodbyes. He’s not going to have to find out.

It’ll take them years and a few girlfriends, maybe even the occasional other boy, to admit to themselves that it wasn’t a fluke. That Harry’s palm had fit perfectly over Louis’ hip on that one fleeting afternoon in a snowy Manchester and that it still did. When it finally happens, Harry whispers in Louis’s ear that it’s only fitting that he was Harry’s first and will be his last.

**The End**


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